Der Kleine Bach
Udo Jürgens
The Little Stream
Little stream, you still rush
There at the edge of the meadow
Like a greeting a distant shimmer
From my childhood land
Tell me where is the happiness the pure
The summers like gold
Are they like the round stones
Rolled away there on the ground
Do you remember Sunday mornings
I then came to you to confess
All my little worries
And dreams made of paper
My first great love
Tell me about her
Tell me if I wrote to her today
What else does she know about me
Little stream, you still rush
There at the edge of the meadow
Like a greeting a distant shimmer
From my childhood land
Yes, time has escaped me
Like you, she doesn't stand still
But tell that to the little boy
Who wants to keep both
Today I know basically
Were you alone my friend
I have often come to you
And I cried my heart out
Valley of Roses Valley of Hedges
Even today, so long after
I would like to discover those
That stung me so much back then
Little stream, you still rush
There at the edge of the meadow
Like a greeting a distant shimmer
From my childhood land
No little stream to listen to you
Doesn't make much sense anymore
You carried my happiness in your roar
Who knows who knows where
